Chapter 38
P hilly’s hands shook as he lifted them along Callie’s side, her skin smooth under his palms. Letting her shirt drop to the ground, he traced the lines of her arms, back down her sides, until his fingers met the waist of her sleep shorts—shorts he was going to insist she wear every night, even in the dead of winter.
The only thing sexier than the sight of the soft cotton barely long enough to cover her backside, and the long, smooth stretch of her legs, would be her naked.
He slid his fingers under the waistband and pushed them over her hips.
With a little nudge, they fell to the floor.
His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, and he couldn’t see her, not yet, but he could feel her.
Feel her softness under his palms, feel the heat of her body wrapping around him.
And he could smell her—the scent of the soap she’d used in her bath, a hint of the hair product she’d smoothed in that morning, and something uniquely Callie.
Her hands touched his waist, and his stomach jerked as her fingers brushed the skin above his sweats.
He didn’t want to stop touching her, he didn’t want his hands to leave the curve of her hips or the dip in her lower back, but if he wanted to feel her skin against his, he needed to comply with her unspoken demand.
He lifted his arms, and she pulled his shirt over his head the same way he’d removed hers. Once she dropped it to the ground, her hands again mimicked his, and her fingers slid under the band of his sweats, drawing them down.
When they were both naked as the day they were born, he reached for her again.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he splayed his hand on her back and pulled her against him as the other cupped her neck.
Her body pressed flush against his, and dimly, he noted the perfect fit as he lowered his head to kiss her.
They remained standing, kissing like teenagers making out on a front step—except for the naked part.
And as their tongues tangled and they nipped and teased each other, he decided he’d kiss Callie in any way she’d let him—clothed or not—but unclothed, with nothing between them, would always be his favorite.
Sinking onto the mattress again, she straddled him. A position they’d explore another time, but not tonight. Inching backward, he maneuvered them farther onto the bed, then stretched out over her.
Her legs curled around him, and her hand slid down his spine.
With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he pulled far enough away to drink her in, to follow the contours of her face, the curve of her shoulder, the rise of her breast. Reverently, he traced a line from her forehead, down her cheek and jaw, along her collarbone, then down the side of her breast, circling up to cup her in his hand.
All his boyhood fantasies came to life so much better than he’d ever imagined.
Better because they’d both grown up, better because they’d both experienced heartache and pain, better because they had the choice, and each had chosen the other.
He’d loved Callie as a girl, but he hadn’t known her the way he knew her now.
He hadn’t known himself the way he did now.
And as scary as this leap in their relationship was, it was also right. So right.
She shifted underneath him, and he brought his gaze up to meet hers. Hesitation shadowed her eyes, and he slid his hand down to her waist.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said.
Her lips tipped into a smile, and he bent his head to drop a soft kiss on each corner.
“It’s not that,” she replied, her voice quiet in the night.
“Talk to me, Callie. If we’ve learned nothing else, it’s that we’re better off if we’re honest with each other.”
She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. Not at first. As he waited, his thumb brushing across her hip bone, her eyes quieted. She’d made a decision.
“I want to feel you inside me.”
His body jerked in response to her bald statement. The way she held her breath told him she had more to say, though, so he held still.
“I want everything. I want the touches, the caresses, the kisses, the sighs. But I want to feel them while you’re inside me.
I’ve waited decades to be this close to you.
I never, in my wildest imagination, thought it would ever happen.
And now that we’re here, I need it. I need to feel as close to you as two people can physically be. Please.”
She didn’t need to add the “Please,” but that one single word destroyed any lingering shard of hurt they’d caused each other. Leaving behind only the promise of who they were and what they could be.
“There’s a condom in my bag,” she added, tipping her head to the bedside table where her bath kit sat.
He didn’t question or make any jokes, just reached inside, found the three packets, and pulled them out.
She held out her hand when he separated one from the others and closed his eyes to the pleasure when she rolled it on him. A heartbeat later, he slid inside her, holding her gaze the entire time.
She ran her hands down his back, then up his stomach and shoulders, before cupping his neck and pulling him down to kiss her. His lips touched hers as her hips curled up in invitation. An invitation every cell of his body welcomed, and he moved in response.
A soft sigh escaped her lips when he pressed in.
Then, slowly, they found a rhythm, one of discovery, one of trust, one of exploration and promise.
And when they reached their peak together, they knew everything they needed to know.
What lay between them was real, it was lasting, and it was worth fighting for.
By the time they pulled onto the highway to start the drive to Las Vegas, they’d gone through the two remaining condoms, had a quick breakfast and a not-so-quick shower, and stopped by the police department to pick up their weapons.
They’d agreed to leave early, which Philly both regretted and welcomed.
Lounging in bed would have been nice, but the speed with which they’d moved through the morning left no time for any awkwardness.
Not that there was any. Well, not much.
Not regret—never that—but more like putting on a pair of new boots for the first time. A little stiff and uncomfortable, but they fit . And, given time and miles, the awkwardness of the novelty would relax and grow into the best, most comfortable pair of shoes.
He frowned as he stared out the window.
In the driver’s seat, Callie glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“I just compared our relationship to a shoe. A boot, to be precise,” he said. “In a good way, of course. But then I questioned that comparison. It’s not a very flattering one.”
He turned to find her staring at him. “You might want to keep your eyes on the road.”
“We have lane assist and a collision warning, and there are no other cars on the road.”
A grin spread over his face. “Does that mean we can…”
She laughed, then turned her attention back to the road. “No, we cannot. I have to touch the steering wheel every minute or so. And besides, I’m wearing jeans and boots. In the confines of a car?—”
“You may as well be wearing a chastity belt,” he grumbled, drawing another laugh.
Several miles clicked by, and he watched a series of expressions chase across her face. It didn’t take a psychic to know she was running through all the intel they’d collected. And with her brain working on overdrive, he didn’t feel the need to pitch in; he was happy simply observing the process.
Which lasted all of ten minutes.
“Who do you think sent the hitman?” she asked.
They’d stopped at a too-cute café before hitting the road, and he grabbed his coffee from the cup holder. “Are you really asking that?”
She flashed him a look, then exhaled. “Okay, Aiden sent him, but why? Why would he kill his own son?”
“My guess?”
“Yes, please.”
“Joe was so excited to see me that he probably sent one of those pictures of the three of us to his family, thus alerting both Rian and Aiden to our presence in his life. And if Aiden found out about your visit to their offices in DC, it would be too much of a coincidence for him to write off when you showed up here. And Joe isn’t exactly discreet.
Not that I think he has a clue about Aiden’s activities, but he knows the business.
Enough to give us insight—and possibly directions to look—if we add it to what we already know.
Simply put, Aiden didn’t want Joseph accidentally telling us something he doesn’t want us to know. ”
A few more miles ticked by. “I hadn’t thought about the picture, but the rest is pretty much what I came up with, too. Which means two things: Aiden really is a cold-blooded bastard. Not only is Joe his son, but killing him is like killing a puppy. And?—”
“We’re getting close,” he said.
She nodded. “It doesn’t feel that way, though. I know we’re closer than we were ten days ago. And in a different ballpark altogether from where I was before joining HICC. But the pieces still aren’t coming together. There are fragments, lots of meaningful fragments, but no clear picture.”
“The picture may not be clear from an evidence perspective, but it’s clear from every other perspective,” he replied.
She glanced over again, her silence asking him to continue.
“Aiden is funneling money from the company to either bribe his way into lucrative contracts or create a situation, like the bombing that killed Liza, that encourages a buyer to move ahead with a contract. He’s using Rian as his shield and not Joe because Rian is well-regarded and well-respected in the business community and suspicion is less likely to fall on him.
He didn’t pick Joe because anyone who spends more than two minutes with Joe would never believe he’d engage in that kind of conduct.
Not because he’s not capable but because making more money isn’t what drives him.
He wants the company stable because of how many employees rely on the work, but amassing wealth isn’t how he wants to spend his life. ”
He paused and took a sip of his coffee, grateful for the complementary reusable—and insulated—mugs the resort had given them.
“Now, the one part we have yet to work out is whether Liza was targeted or whether the Operation Nationalists sensed they had a mole, and she was the target that night, with Liza being beneficial collateral damage. And yes, I hate saying that.”
“But it’s your training,” she said on an exhale. Reaching down, she picked up her own coffee but didn’t take a sip. “You’re good at this. At distilling things down to what’s essential,” she said. “I’m not surprised. I noticed it when we worked on Juliana’s situation and then Lina’s, but I guess…”
“You never expected us to be having this conversation?”
Her head bobbed from one side to the other. “More like I never expected us to have a real conversation of any sort.”
He chuckled. “We had more than a conversation last night.”
She glanced over. He waggled his brows. She shook her head to hide her smile. “Do you think Rian and Aiden will be at the hospital when we get there?”
The hospital had refused to release any information about Joe, but when they’d picked up their weapons, the police had given them an update: he’d survived the surgery but was in critical condition.
“Yes, or Rian will be,” he replied.
“Not Aiden?”
He shrugged. “If he knows we’re here and survived the hit he put out on us last night, he’s not likely to show his face. I don’t think he’s running to ground, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a ‘business trip’ suddenly crop up. To somewhere far away.”
“We need to talk to Sabina. We can’t let him leave the country.”
“He’s far too arrogant to make a real run for it, but I agree, we need to talk to Sabina and Leo.” He’d texted Sabina about the shooting as soon as the EMTs took over care for Joe. He’d bet the HICC team—the nonpregnant ones—had been on it all night.
She took a sip of her coffee, then exhaled, her gaze fixed on the road in front of them. “I could do with a major breakthrough right about now.”
He laughed. “That only happens on TV.”
Her only reaction was a huff of agreement.